Richelieu's Revenge
by CaroH
Summary: Set immediately after the events in episode 1.10. The Cardinal plots his revenge against the Musketeers.
1. Chapter 1

This story is set immediately after the end of episode 1.10.

 **Richelieu's Revenge**

 **Chapter One**

Darkness gathered in the room. The candles barely chased away the gloom, banishing it only as far as the edges of the ornate oak desk. The man in the chair, his robes hanging loosely around his thin body, did not even acknowledge the transition from day to night. A pen was held in his right hand, the ink on the tip long since dried. With his left he drummed his fingers on the polished surface. The steady beat kept time with his thoughts. Any other man might be accused of sulking, but this was the First Minister of France, the mighty Cardinal Richelieu and he didn't sulk. He plotted and schemed to ensure that he always came out on top.

It had been a strange day. At the start of it he had high hopes of luring the young man, d'Artagnan, away from the Musketeers. He had also hoped to reclaim written evidence of his complicity with Gallagher in the assassination attempt on the Queen. That evidence, as it turned out, didn't exist. He had been tricked into admitting his crime in the hearing of the Queen and, for a split second, had believed he was doomed. However, instead of denouncing him she had given him the same freedom granted to a dog on a leash. He could continue his work on behalf of France but the threat remained always in the background.

Then had come the announcement of her pregnancy. A startling development after years of barrenness. The King, of course, was delighted and, while she carried his precious child, would deny her nothing. His brows drew together in a frown. Was it though the King's child? He had stumbled across an unusual scene of the Queen giving a private audience to the Musketeer, Aramis. He had been one of the soldiers who had guarded her life at the convent. Was it possible that they had been indiscreet? The timing would certainly make sense. It was a proposition that required a lot more thought.

That brought him back to the subject of the four meddlesome Musketeers who had ruined all his plans. They could not be allowed to escape unpunished. The Queen was beyond his reach; they were not. He considered each in turn. All had a weakness which could be exploited. Athos was a known drunkard and Richelieu had no idea why Treville tolerated him. Aramis could not turn down a pretty face and had already crossed him once in the matter of Adele. He missed Adele. She had been a skillful mistress and, he had thought, trustworthy. He didn't for a second regret ordering her execution.

Then there was that great brute of a man, Porthos. He was nothing other than a common thug who had crawled out of the Court of Miracles. Such a man wasn't fit to wear the pauldron of the Musketeers. He had a reputation for cheating at cards and joyously throwing himself into every fight that came his way. Well, in fights, accidents could happen. Finally, there was the newest member of their group, the young Gascon, d'Artagnan. The Cardinal had hoped to reel him in using Milady who had been confident that he couldn't resist her charms. He had proved her wrong and seemed to be more attached to some insignificant merchant's wife. He had summoned Milady hours ago and her failure to appear was just another tiny pin prick in a day of irritations.

Somehow. he would find a way to destroy each of these men. He pulled a fresh sheet of parchment towards him and began to write.

TMTMTM

The tavern was warm and smelt strongly of spilt beer. The noise levels had been steadily rising as men called in on their way home from work. At a table towards the back of the room sat two of the men that had caused Richelieu so much trouble. A third sat close by engrossed in a cut throat game of cards. Their fourth, and youngest, had excused himself and gone back to the garrison. He was taking the loss of Constance very hard.

"So," Aramis took a swallow of wine. "The Queen is with child."

Athos looked around irritably. "This is not a conversation to be had here. It hasn't yet been announced." He had, of course, other reasons for cutting off this line of thought.

"She looks well," Aramis persisted.

"She's the Queen. She always looks well."

"Athos…"

"We're not discussing this. Not now or at any time in the future." He beckoned to one of the serving girls. "Bring us some food."

"She's very happy. Surely you don't begrudge her that."

"Everyone is happy. You can be happy from a distance."

Aramis sighed and gave up. "Everyone except d'Artagnan."

"That is unfortunate, although it avoids many complications. To set a married woman up openly as your mistress is a dangerous thing."

"True. Constance would have lost her position in society and would have no protection if d'Artagnan were to get himself killed." He smiled automatically as two bowls of stew and a plate of bread were placed in front of them.

"He's young. He'll get over it." Athos picked up his spoon and regarded the greasy concoction in front of him with some misgivings.

"Ah, puppy love. It's always your first love the hurts the most." Aramis' face fell as he realised what he had said. Athos had been forced to tell them about his marriage to Milady. From the little that he had said it had been clear that the marriage had been a happy one until the death of Thomas. Now Aramis felt as if he was rubbing salt into the wound. However, Athos didn't seem to have noticed.

The stew turned out to be flavourful enough and the bread was fresh so they ate in silence for a while. They could hear Porthos' laughter, loud even above the normal din of the place. He seemed to be having a good night.

"I was surprised that the Queen was so lenient with the Cardinal," Aramis said after wiping his mouth. "She could have utterly destroyed him."

"He's the one governing France. Take him out of the picture and who do you have left? The King has neither the interest nor the ability and there is no natural successor. I believe she made a wise move. She has checked his power without sending the country into turmoil."

"That is a sad reflection upon our present state of affairs."

"I would wager it is none so different in other countries. And, it is none of our business. We are soldiers, not politicians, and it's time we got back to doing our job. We have interfered far more than is prudent in matters of state."

"We had good reason."

"I am not disagreeing with you but now things are stable again. We are soldiers, sworn to protect the King and uphold the law. That should be enough." It wasn't enough for Aramis, he knew, and never would be. The coming child in all likelihood was Aramis' which meant that the complications were only just beginning. It didn't occur to him that Richelieu might stoop so low as to seek revenge on them and neither did he foresee the damage that would be inflicted. The skein was tangled enough without that.

Tbc


	2. Chapter 2

**Richelieu's Revenge**

 **Chapter Two**

Athos' drinking habits had not improved following their defeat of Milady. As far as he knew she had left Paris, but he remained disgusted by his failure to kill her. She was a spy and an assassin and had richly deserved death. His conflicted feelings had left him shaken despite assurances from the others that his hesitation did him credit. He hadn't even been able to bring himself to turn her in, knowing that death would have been her fate.

Some nights he drank in company with his brothers and on those nights, he found it easier to moderate his intake. On other occasions, when he knew he wasn't fit to be in anybody's company he drank alone and deeply.

Last night had been one of his solitary drinking bouts and this morning he was paying the price. He had his hat pulled low to block out the light that had been stabbing into his eyes. His hand was wrapped around a mug of weak beer while his stomach rebelled at the thought of food. His friends, in deference to his condition, kept their voices low. Occasionally Porthos would forget and his great booming laugh would cause Athos to flinch violently.

They were due on duty at the palace in an hour. Athos contemplated that without pleasure. He was unlikely to disgrace himself but he knew he was less than fighting fit. It was a gross dereliction of duty about which he was ashamed even though he seemed helpless to curb his destructive tendencies.

"Athos."

The shout came from above. He tipped his head back cautiously to look up. "Captain?"

"My office. Now."

"Someone's in trouble," d'Artagnan said.

"What did you do this time?" Aramis asked.

"Nothing so far as I am aware." He stood up carefully and gave himself a few seconds to find his equilibrium.

Climbing the stairs while tired and hungover was no pleasant task but he soon found himself standing before Treville's desk. He made a conscious effort not to sway.

Treville's expression was severe. "You're drunk again," he said accusingly.

Athos decided that didn't merit a response although his mind was sluggishly trying to make sense of the situation. Treville knew of his weakness and had shown himself quite capable of overlooking it. What had changed?

"When you're like this you are a disgrace to your uniform. It has to stop, Athos."

On that they were agreed, it was just the practicality of achieving it that escaped Athos. "May I speak?" He waited for the curt nod. "Have I done something to cause you displeasure?"

"I have tolerated your love of wine because you are the best soldier in the regiment. No-one can better you with a sword and you have a knack for leadership which has been sorely lacking." He held up his hand to forestall Athos' denial. "However, your penchant for overindulgence has come to the attention of the King."

Athos' stomach roiled queasily. "I have never failed in my duty," he protested.

"No one is accusing you of that."

"Then how did the King find out?"

A look of distaste crossed Treville's face. "The Cardinal. He pointed it out to the King last time you were on duty. I was called to account and given a dressing down for allowing such indiscipline within the ranks."

"I'm sorry."

"Oh, I can look after myself. It's you I'm worried about. The King doesn't want to see you until you can prove your sobriety. He's also hinted that he would consider stripping you of your commission if you can't satisfy him."

Athos paled. If he were to lose his place in the regiment he would have nothing to live for. It would only be a short time before he drank himself into an early grave. He swallowed bile, grimacing at the unpleasant taste. "What do I do?"

"Coming down from any addictive substance is a hard thing to do but I don't think we have the luxury of time. If you want to keep your position you will have to abstain from drinking from this point forward. It will take willpower and the help of your friends but I have faith in you."

That was more than Athos had in himself. Already his palms were sweating at the thought of cutting off his supply of alcohol. The craving for just one more drink had taken tight hold. He'd seen men battling addiction before and it wasn't pretty. The physical pain had been almost more than the body could bear. Was he mentally and physically strong enough for that?

"I need time to think," he said weakly.

"You have the day. You will remain in the garrison assisting me with all this god-damned paperwork." Treville gestured to the piles of parchment on his desk. "If, by the end of the day, you have decided against this I will tell the King that you have resigned your commission. I suggest you discuss it with the other three. You won't be able to do it without them. Report back here in an hour."

The interview was over, leaving Athos shaken and bereft. The look on his face must have warned the others because all levity drained out of them. He sat down and poured a glass of water. That was enough to provoke raised eyebrows.

"What did Treville want?" d'Artagnan asked.

"He gave me an ultimatum. I either stop drinking or I lose my commission." Saying it out loud didn't make it any more palatable.

There was a collective gasp. "He can't mean that," Aramis said a moment later.

"Why now?" Porthos asked. "It's not like you've never turned up hungover before. And, you're not the only one. We've all been guilty of it."

"Apparently I can thank the Cardinal. He told the King and that got back to Treville."

"That man's a snake," d'Artagnan said. "I thought, after what happened a few weeks ago, that he'd stay in the shadows where he belongs."

"That isn't in Richelieu's nature," Aramis said. "Why he would do this though remains a mystery."

"I'm not sure I agree," Athos said, his thoughts slowly coalescing. "He knows we conspired with the Queen to humiliate him. We should have been expecting repercussions."

"Well, whatever his motives, the more important question is what can we do to help," Aramis said.

"There isn't time to cut down gradually. I need to be cut off from all alcohol and I need you to ensure that my resolve doesn't waver. Can you do that?"

"We'll do it alright," Porthos said, "Even if I have to sit on you to keep you away from the taverns."

Athos gave a half-smile. "I am hoping that won't be necessary. I have been relieved of duty for the day so I suggest we start this evening."

"Whatever you need, my friend. Whatever you need." Aramis squeezed Athos' shoulder, but his expression gave away his thoughts. Would Athos be strong enough to escape from the beast that drove him to drink?

Tbc


	3. Chapter 3

**Richelieu's Revenge**

 **Chapter Three**

By mid-afternoon Athos was not in a good state. His hands shook so much that he could hardly wield a pen. He had come close to overturning the inkwell at least twice. A headache was building up behind his eyes and, if there had been any food in his stomach, he would have vomited.

Treville had plied him with water and tried, unsuccessfully, to persuade him to eat a light lunch. The Captain had been kind and considerate and the whole situation had set Athos' nerves on edge. He felt as if the walls were closing in on him and all he wanted was to stumble to the nearest tavern and drink his fill.

"I think that's enough for today," Treville said. "You look like you need to lie down."

Athos gratefully put the pen down and started to rise.

"Do you have any wine in your room?" Treville asked.

Athos considered lying, but only briefly. "Yes."

"Then I will come and collect it."

With extreme reluctance Athos handed over the two bottles. Once Treville had gone he pulled off his boots, unbuttoned and removed his doublet. His bed did look very inviting. He lay on his side and closed his eyes, hoping to fall asleep. After tossing and turning for ten minutes he settled on his back and stared at the ceiling.

His thoughts were consumed with the need to have a drink. He could almost taste the wine on his tongue. His stomach cramped painfully. We wiped his brow which was beaded with sweat even though the room was cool.

Time crawled by and the urge to go out and find some wine grew stronger. On numerous occasions he had to exercise his will power, but he could feel it fading. The headache grew in intensity and his shirt became soaked through with cold perspiration. He began to shiver.

He got up and put on his doublet. It didn't help, His boots were next. He was losing the fight and he knew it. He checked his coin purse. He had enough money to make a significant dent in his thirst. He collected his cloak, pushing down his feelings of guilt. He was all ready to leave when there was a knock on his door.

One of the latest crop of cadets was standing outside looking nervous. "Captain Treville sent me to ask if you're alright, Sir."

It embarrassed him that the cadets accorded him the same level of respect they showed to Treville. It never occurred to him that he deserved it based upon his prowess with a sword. "I'm fine," Athos snapped before slamming the door in the startled young man's face.

The interruption had served its purpose and he flung his cloak haphazardly across a chair. He crossed to the window. The sun had started its descent, but it would be many hours before darkness fell. He wondered when his friends would return. They were standing guard over a delegation from England which, no doubt, was seeking money. They had little chance of success while Richelieu held the purse strings. The meeting could drag on into the evening, leaving him alone for hours to wrestle with his demons. He briefly considered going down to the yard but was shaking too badly. He also felt unaccountably anxious about appearing in public. He imagined the comments that would be made behind his back. His reputation, such as it was, would be ruined.

His stomach, already unsettled, chose that moment to rebel. He fell to his knees and grabbed the empty chamber pot. The heaves were unpleasant but nothing compared to the bitter taste of bile that rushed up his throat. His whole body was shaking as he spat once, and then again, to try to remove the taste from his mouth.

He hadn't heard the door opening but someone must have come in because a hand was now rubbing circles on his upper back.

"Just take it slowly," Aramis said. "D'Artagnan, could you fetch some water? He needs to drink."

"Of course," d'Artagnan said.

Athos sat back, his nose assaulted by the sour smell of vomit. "You're back." His voice, unsteady though it was, betrayed his relief.

"We are." Aramis took his arm and helped him to stand. He was steered towards the bed and sat down with a groan.

"Sit back."

Aramis had plumped up the pillow and propped it against the wall.

Athos maneuvered himself into position. "I don't think I can do this," he said weakly.

"Course you can," Porthos said. "The Captain has put us on rotation so there'll always be one of us here to help you."

A sense of relief coursed through Athos.

"How do you feel?" Aramis asked.

"My head hurts, my stomach feels like it's been turned inside out and I can't stop shaking."

"All common symptoms of withdrawal. Any pain, other than in your head," Aramis asked.

"No." He knew that would change as his ordeal progressed. He wasn't afraid of pain but hated appearing weak, even in front of his closest friends.

The next couple of hours were bearable as his friends worked to take him mind off the need for wine. He even managed to eat some cold chicken without being sick. Gradually the sun set and Aramis lit the candles.

"You look like you could do with sleeping," Aramis said.

Athos didn't disagree although the aching that was starting in his joints made it very difficult to get comfortable. He felt as if he had the ague.

"Do you need anything?" Aramis asked.

Athos shook his head. "I'll be alright."

Unsurprisingly, none of the other three looked convinced.

"I'll stay here tonight," d'Artagnan said. "Just in case Athos needs anything."

"You don't need to do that," Athos protested.

"It's no trouble."

After Aramis and Porthos had gone Athos lay down on his side. Every part of his body ached. He closed his eyes and tried to will himself to sleep.

D'Artagnan got as comfortable as he could in a chair. Athos had his back turned to him so he couldn't see his face. He could, however, see the shivers that were wracking Athos' body. He silently cursed Richelieu. Athos' drinking had been a concern for some time and it was no bad thing to break the cycle. Having said all that, a more gradual withdrawal would have produced less severe symptoms.

Time passed slowly and d'Artagnan began to yawn. Athos was lying quietly although he couldn't tell if the older man was asleep. Soon his eyelids began to slide shut. He jerked awake a couple of times before sleep overcame him. The candles had burnt low by the time he groggily opened his eyes. He looked at the silent bed and immediately straightened up. A frantic look around the room confirmed his fears. Athos was missing.

Tbc


	4. Chapter 4

**Richelieu's Revenge**

 **Chapter Four**

Cool air slapped d'Artagnan's overheated cheeks as he ran out of the room. His first instinct was to rouse Aramis and Porthos but, as he raised his fist to hammer on Aramis' door, he hesitated. He had caused this crisis by falling asleep. It was up to him to solve it.

He walked hurriedly away and turned the corner into the yard. All was in darkness and very quiet. Wait! He almost missed the sound of someone speaking. It was so soft that, at first, he thought he had imagined it. Then he heard an uneven footfall. He walked forward, straining his eyes to see. Yes, there was definitely someone there.

"Athos?"

The footfalls ceased and then resumed. Gradually the figure drew nearer and d'Artagnan saw that he had been right.

"What are you doing out here?" he asked.

Athos stopped in front of him, his features indistinct in the darkness. "I couldn't stay still. It feels like ants are crawling under my skin," he said plaintively. "Walking helps."

"Do you want some company?"

There was no answer but, when d'Artagnan fell into step beside Athos, he wasn't turned away. They walked and walked and, when Athos stumbled, d'Artagnan was there to hold his arm and steady him. Gradually the sky began to lighten. Athos was becoming less sure on his feet as exhaustion overtook him.

"I think it's time to lie down," d'Artagnan said. "The day will be starting soon."

Athos' brief nod was all the acknowledgement he received but it was enough. He steered Athos back to his room and sat him on the bed. After pulling off Athos' boots and seeing him settled in bed he returned to his chair.

"How do you feel?"

"Tired."

"Go to sleep. You're doing well. The worst will soon be over."

It wasn't long after that when Aramis arrived. D'Artagnan put a finger to his lips to tell him to be quiet. Aramis nodded and pulled up a chair.

"How is he?" he whispered.

"He was up most of the night. I think he will sleep for a while now."

"Go and get some rest. I will stay with him."

D'Artagnan yawned and stood up. "Call me if you need me." He closed the door gently behind him.

TMTMTM

For a while it was quiet. Aramis sat by the bedside and read. Then Athos began to move fitfully, pushing his blankets down.

"Hot," he mumbled.

Aramis leaned forward and rested his hand on Athos' forehead. Heat radiated off him. Suddenly Athos sat up, his eyes unfocussed.

"Fire," he said, his voice surprisingly strong. "The house is on fire. Get out!" He began to climb out of bed but Aramis pushed him back.

"There is no need to worry, my friend. You have a fever. There is no fire." He could see that his words weren't penetrating the fog surrounding Athos.

"She's here." Athos looked at Aramis but there was no recognition in his dull green eyes. "She's supposed to be dead."

Aramis recognised the nightmare that was gripping Athos. When admitting that Milady was his wife Athos had also described the fire that had destroyed the de la Fere chateaux.

"You are at the garrison. All is well." He collected a bowl and a cloth. "We just need to get your temperature down." He touched Athos' face with the cloth and Athos flinched. "Relax. Let me take care of you."

Athos lay back down and his eyes closed. Aramis continued to bathe his face and neck. Then Athos started to shake.

"She should have killed me," he said. His eyes were closed, and Aramis couldn't tell if he was awake.

"That would have been a great shame. Your friends would miss you. I would miss you."

Athos quieted after that. Aramis tried to return to his reading but couldn't concentrate. It disturbed him that Athos put such a small price on his life. Milady had done deep damage to a fundamentally good man. What was even more worrying was the fact that Athos still seemed to have feelings for her.

Treville came to check on them at lunch time. He brought broth in a cup for Athos and bread and cheese for Aramis.

"How is he?"

"He was in the grip of a nightmare earlier but that has passed."

Athos sighed and opened his eyes. "Captain." His voice was croaky, and Aramis hurried to bring him some water.

"How do you feel?" Treville asked.

"Tired and achy."

"Can you eat?"

Athos looked doubtful. "I can try." His hands were unsteady, but he managed half the broth before giving up. "How much longer?"

"At least another day. I'm sorry," Aramis said.

"Not your fault."

Aramis leaned over and checked his temperature again. "You still have a fever. You should get some more rest."

"I can't lie here any longer."

Treville helped to get Athos settled in a chair by the window before returning to his duties.

"How's your stomach?" Aramis asked.

Athos grimaced. "Better than it was."

"That's a positive sign."

"I'll take your word for that."

Aramis patted him on the shoulder before pulling up a chair. "Do you really think Richelieu is punishing us?"

"I wouldn't put it past him. He doesn't like anyone else getting the upper hand."

"Then he is unlikely to stop here."

"That is my fear. You should all be on your guard."

"We will but getting you well is our priority."

"I am grateful. I couldn't have done this alone."

"You are never alone."

There was the ghost of a smile on Athos' face as he answered. "I know."

TMTMTM

Richelieu was content. Telling the King about Athos' drink problem had been immensely satisfying. Watching Treville trying to defend his man had amused him, particularly as the King had been in a difficult mood that day. He would have to prod the King to insist that Athos present himself at the palace. The humiliation would be complete when Athos was stripped of his commission. What would the other three do then? It would send shock waves through their little group and would be a blow for Treville.

He leaned back in his chair. Who to target next? He'd been watching Aramis and the Queen. They'd been careful, but he had seen the odd occasion when they had looked at one another with longing. It wasn't enough to take to the King yet. He would have to wait for them to betray themselves first. He frowned. He would be damned before he saw a Musketeer's bastard sitting on the throne. He amused himself by imagining a world where the King threw over his marriage to Anne, sending her and her illegitimate child into exile.

Sadly, that didn't deal with the question of the succession. It was looking increasingly likely that the King was impotent. That left his brother, Gaston, as the heir. He was a spineless fool who had rebelled against the King then crawled back to him begging for mercy. He'd been lucky that he'd only been sent into exile like his scheming mother. Fortunately, it would be many years before he had to deal with that problem.

In the meantime he had the pleasurable prospect of damaging the Musketeers. Yes, he knew what he was going to do next. He sent for the Captain of the Red Guard.

Tbc


	5. Chapter 5

**Richelieu's Revenge**

 **Chapter Five**

The King was giving a banquet for the English delegation prior to sending them home with their wishes unfulfilled. Aramis and d'Artagnan, both on duty, stood to attention behind the King's chair. They had left Porthos to look after their ailing brother and Aramis was having a hard time marshalling his thoughts. Athos' condition had deteriorated again, with vicious muscle cramps and sickness. He had borne it all with stoicism for as long as he could but, when they left, he had been reduced to a whimpering wreck incapable of rational speech.

Added to that was the proximity to the Queen. Her scent floated on the overheated air and teased Aramis' nostrils. Her pregnancy was showing now and she was in radiant good health. She sat next to the King, politely conversing with her other dinner companion, the Duke of Devonshire. His hand, Aramis noticed, kept wandering towards her knee.

Treville and the Cardinal were also present, sitting at opposite ends of the high table. In the body of the room dozens of courtiers dined on elaborate dishes while consuming vast quantities of wine. To Aramis it all felt facile and unnecessary. He would far rather have been by Athos' bedside, ministering to his friend and helping him fight his demons.

The meal was coming to an end when Richelieu leaned forward and spoke to the King. "Perhaps, Sire, Captain Treville can provide a progress report on his soldier."

Treville stiffened. "This is hardly the place to discuss that."

The King who had dined well was in an expansive mood. "Ah, Treville, I'm sure our English guests will excuse us." The King had little time for the English who he regarded as stiff and boring. "Is he ready to present himself before us?"

"It isn't a simple process, Majesty. He makes progress, but it would be premature to bring him to the palace."

Aramis had to bite his tongue. Richelieu was deliberately baiting Treville, forcing him into an invidious position.

"Maybe by tomorrow?" Richelieu asked.

"He is unlikely to be well enough," Treville said.

"How hard can it be to stay sober?" the King asked, ignoring the significant amount of wine he had imbibed that evening.

Treville glanced over his shoulder at Aramis who shook his head. "With respect, Sire, the symptoms are severe."

"Tomorrow afternoon," the King said. "I have been more than patient. There are standards you know, Treville. I can't have a member of my Musketeer regiment running around with a drink problem." He pushed back his chair, signaling the end of the conversation. Everyone rose and bowed as he led the Queen from the room.

Treville approached Aramis and d'Artagnan. "You heard the King. Will he be ready?"

"It's impossible to say," Aramis said.

"Richelieu is a bastard," d'Artagnan said fervently.

"There is no doubt about that." Treville frowned at them both. "Get back to the garrison. Do what you can to prepare him."

TMTMTM

It was almost midnight when Aramis and d'Artagnan got back to Athos' room. He was sitting up in bed, wrapped in blankets and beset by violent tremors.

"They started about an hour ago," Porthos reported. "He's exhausted but he can't get any sleep."

"He needs to rest. The King wants to see him tomorrow afternoon," d'Artagnan said.

"C…can't." Athos could barely speak, he was shivering so badly.

"I'll stay with him," Aramis said. "You two get his uniform and weapons ready. He has to look immaculate." He turned to Athos. "Do you have a clean shirt?"

"Yes."

"Good. D'Artagnan, brush down his leathers and cloak. His boots will need some attention too. Porthos, see to his sword and pistol."

D'Artagnan collected Athos' uniform while Porthos picked up his weapons belt.

"Are you sure you'll be alright on your own?" Porthos asked.

"We'll be fine. Get what rest you can. We need to be there to support Athos tomorrow."

Once they were alone Aramis turned his attention to Athos. "Are you cold?"

"No. Muscles won't stay still. R…really need a drink."

"You're doing too well to give up now."

"Not worth it. Not fit to be a Musketeer."

Aramis, who was tired and worried, lost his temper. "Don't you dare say that you aren't worthy of your commission. You earned it and I won't let Richelieu's machinations deprive you of it."

Athos looked completely taken aback by Aramis' vehemence. Seeing it, the marksman moderated his tone.

"You have come so far, Athos. Don't give up now."

A shaky nod was his only response.

Gradually, as the night moved towards dawn the tremors eased. Finally, Athos fell asleep. Aramis stood and stretched his aching muscles before wandering over to the window and watching the sky lighten. The worst was over.

TMTMTM

At midday Aramis, reluctantly, roused Athos. "It's time to get ready."

Although Athos still looked exhausted his eyes were clear and his hands were perfectly steady.

"Take it slow," Aramis advised as Athos sat up. "How do you feel?"

"Better than the last couple of days."

"There's warm water for you to wash and then you should eat something."

Athos was washing when d'Artagnan and Porthos arrived. His uniform and weapons were laid out for him and Aramis fetched a clean shirt from the bureau. Athos dressed slowly; shirt, trousers, doublet and boots. Aramis helped him to wind the light blue sash around his waist before Athos buckled on his sword belt. The final item of clothing was the cloak. His three friends viewed him critically.

"You look like hell warmed over," Porthos said with a grin.

"Thank you for the vote of confidence."

"It will be enough to satisfy the King and a real kick in the teeth for Richelieu," d'Artagnan said.

"That's the aim," Aramis said. "Why don't you two take Athos down for something to eat while I get ready?"

Athos still moved slowly. He felt as if he was recovering from a long illness. His muscles still ached but that was only the aftermath of his ordeal. His mind was clear; clearer than it has been for a very long time. It made him realise just how far he had fallen. They made their way down to the yard and d'Artagnan went off to collect some food. He came back carrying a bowl of stew and a couple of slices of bread.

Athos found, to his surprise, that he was hungry. The chicken stew tasted wonderful but he was careful not to put too much strain on his stomach. He had just pushed the bowl away when Treville and Aramis joined them.

"Aramis tells me you are feeling better," Treville said.

"Yes, sir. I'm still tired but that will pass. I will be fit for duty tomorrow."

"I'm proud of you," the Captain said sincerely.

Athos lowered his eyes, embarrassed by the praise. "It was my own fault I got into this mess."

"Nonetheless you have overcome it. Well, gentlemen, are we ready?"

They mounted their horses and set out for the palace.

Tbc


	6. Chapter 6

**Richelieu's Revenge**

 **Chapter Six**

Although it wasn't a long ride to the palace it rapidly sapped Athos' strength. When they arrived he felt so weak that he had to hesitate before dismounting. Inevitably, his friends noticed.

"Do you need help?" Aramis asked.

Athos' pride chose that moment to reassert itself. "I'm fine. Just give me a minute."

They waited patiently until he could muster up enough energy to swing his leg over the saddle. His feet hit the ground and he leaned against his horse until his head stopped spinning. Their progress was slow as the others were content to allow Athos to dictate the pace. Treville sent word to the King and they waited in the ante-chamber. There was no place to sit. Not that Athos would have sat. He was a soldier and soldiers did not take their ease while on duty.

Standing still was problematic so he paced from the windows to the door while they waited to be summoned. The King, probably encouraged by Richelieu, was in no hurry to see them. Athos began to feel ill. Beads of sweat accumulated on his forehead and his palms were slick.

When the door opened he almost groaned with relief. He simply needed to get this over with. They entered the room and Athos glanced around. To his relief there were no courtiers, just the King with Richelieu standing beside him. They all bowed before standing to attention. Athos kept his eyes trained on a spot just over the King's left shoulder.

"Well, Treville, is he sober?" the King asked.

Athos felt heat in his cheeks. He couldn't remember the last time he had been so embarrassed.

"He is, Your Majesty."

"Step forward, Athos," the King commanded.

Athos walked forward and sank down onto one knee. "I beg your majesty's pardon," he said.

"I should think so," Louis said.

"He doesn't look very well." There was undisguised satisfaction in Richelieu's voice.

"It has been an ordeal," Treville responded icily. "He will be fully fit by tomorrow."

"I hope so," the King said. "We can't have members of our guard incapable of performing their duties." He returned his attention to Athos. "We will be lenient this time but, if it ever happens again, you will lose your commission. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Sire."

Richelieu looked annoyed. "Your Majesty is too generous."

"Perhaps, but we remember how Athos and his companions defended the Queen from those who would have assassinated her. For that alone he deserves a second chance." He waved a hand in Athos' direction. "You may rise."

Athos considered that. A headache was building behind his eyes and his limbs felt far from coordinated. After a moment he rose to his feet, immediately feeling a hand under his elbow, steadying him. He gave Treville a grateful look before backing to stand with the others.

"Well, Cardinal, it appears your concerns about Athos have been satisfied." The King stood up, his interest lost.

Richelieu glared venomously at the Musketeers who all gazed back with equanimity. After the Cardinal had followed the King from the room Athos relaxed, staggering slightly.

"Time to get you home," Treville said.

The return journey was even harder than the ride to the palace. Athos was close to collapse by the time they reached the sanctuary of the garrison. Aramis immediately hustled him off to bed.

"The Cardinal wasn't lookin' happy," Porthos said with satisfaction.

"No, he wasn't," Treville replied. "Be vigilant. I don't think he's finished yet."

TMTMTM

Porthos drained his glass and reached for the wine bottle. His table companions, three members of the Red Guard, were all studying their cards. He picked up his own cards. He had a good hand and wouldn't need to resort to the King or the Ace he had secreted up his sleeve. He pushed a couple of coins towards the small pile in the centre of the table.

Giroud, on his left, made a growling sound before throwing down his cards in disgust. Bertrand, sitting opposite him, hesitated before matching his bet. Porthos turned to look at Perod, whose stack of coins had steadily dwindled as the evening had progressed. The large man hunched forward over his cards, greasy hair shadowing his face. Finally he shook his head and laid them face down on the table.

"Let's see what you've got then," Porthos said to Bertrand.

The tall, lanky, soldier laid his cards on the table. Porthos grinned with pleasure and spread his own cards so that everyone could see that he had two pairs

"If you're goin' to bluff you need to do a better job of it than that," Porthos said as he reached over to scoop up the pot of money.

A large hand came crashing down on the table. "Your lucks been a bit too good tonight," Perod said. "I reckon you've been cheating us. What do you say, boys?"

Giroud and Bertrand both nodded their heads and Porthos looked hurt. The fact was that he hadn't cheated, he'd just been lucky with the fall of the cards. It didn't matter a damn that he'd have happily fleeced them if that had been necessary. He pushed back his chair.

"I'm wounded by your accusation," he said. In truth he was greatly enjoying himself. If there was anything he enjoyed more than winning at cards it was a good brawl. Unfortunately none of his brothers were with him but he had faith in his abilities and it wouldn't be the first time he had trounced three Red Guards.

"I think he needs to be taught a lesson," Perod said, pushing back his own chair.

Porthos picked up the wine bottle. It wasn't quite empty and he was never one to waste good wine. He raised it to his mouth and tipped it back. Then he gripped it by the neck and stood up.

"Right then. Who's first?"

Giroud, the smallest of the three shook his head and Porthos' grin widened. "Typical Red Guard," he said. "Lettin' others do the dirty work."

All three men rose to their feet and formed a loose semi-circle around the table. The other patrons were hurriedly moving out of the way while the landlord hurried over, looking harassed.

"I don't want no trouble," the landlord said. "If you want to fight take it outside."

He had no sooner finished talking than Perod launched himself at Porthos. Porthos swung the bottle and it connected with Perod's left shoulder. The Red Guard grunted but continued his assault. A fist came hurtling towards Porthos' face. He ducked and countered it with a blow to his opponents stomach. Perod staggered back a couple of steps. Before Porthos could follow up on his advantage Bertrand had charged in and was pummeling him. Porthos brushed him off like a particularly annoying gnat.

"Two on one is hardly fair," he said, stepping back out of reach.

"Who said anything about fair?" Perod said. He moved round to Porthos' right while Bertrand took up position on the left.

Porthos had lost track of Giroud, only remembering the man's existence when he felt a blow to the back of the head. It was enough to send him teetering forward and right into a vicious punch from Perod. It rocked him back although he managed to keep his feet under him. He shook his head to clear it before lashing out at the two smaller men. They backed away but his actions had left him open to a further attack from Perod. One on one they were evenly matched. They traded punches for a few moments, neither man gaining the advantage. When a chair was smashed across Porthos' back, however, the dynamics changed. A right and then a left to his jaw sent him crashing to the floor. He curled up as boots connected with his side. No-one interfered as the assault continued and he felt his limbs go slack. Then there was a sharp pain in his side and Perod leaned down to whisper in his ear.

"Compliments of the Cardinal," Perod said, withdrawing the dagger from Porthos' flesh.

After a final kick they all walked away laughing, leaving Porthos lying on the floor in an ever increasing puddle of blood.

Tbc


	7. Chapter 7

**Richelieu's Revenge**

 **Chapter Seven**

Aramis was getting ready for bed when someone pounded on his door. Momentary surprise gave way to fury as he listened to the man standing in the hallway. "Which tavern," he asked sharply.

"The Flying Swan. A doctor's been sent for."

Aramis thanked him and gave him a coin for his trouble. He buckled on his sword belt before walking hurriedly to Athos' room. "Porthos is hurt," he told his friend.

"How badly?" Athos was already pulling on his doublet.

"It's bad, Athos."

Together they collected d'Artagnan and ran through the empty streets to the tavern. Human nature being what it was there was a large crowd in the room. Aramis snarled at them as he pushed his way through. Once he had a clear view he stopped dead. Porthos lay in a pool of blood with his eyes closed. An elderly man knelt beside him wielding a needle and thread. Aramis dropped to his knees beside him, only vaguely aware of Athos and d'Artagnan telling the curious onlookers to go home.

The doctor looked up and saw Aramis' pauldron. "You're a friend of his?"

"Yes. How is he?"

The man returned to his stitching. "He was stabbed in the side. If he's lucky none of the major organs have been damaged. We won't know for sure for a few days. He's lost a lot of blood so he's going to be weak for a while." He tied off the last stitch. "There, that's done." He rummaged in his bag and brought out a length of bandages. "Give me a hand."

It was a struggle to move Porthos' inert body but they finally had the bandage pinned in place.

When Aramis stood up he found Athos and d'Artagnan beside him.

"I'll go back to the garrison for a cart," d'Artagnan said. "I won't be long."

Athos paid the doctor before standing looking somberly at Porthos. "It was a Red Guard," he said.

Aramis looked at him in shock. "Which one?"

"The innkeeper doesn't know his name. Apparently Porthos and three Red Guard were playing cards before an altercation started. They all attacked him and once and, when they left, he was bleeding. It could have been any one of them."

"When we find out who it was I'll kill them," said Aramis savagely.

TMTMTM

It only felt like five minutes since Aramis was watching over Athos during his withdrawal. In reality it had been ten days. During that time Athos had avoided wine altogether and had contented himself with weak beer. Now he was sitting at the bedside of another ailing brother. Porthos had roused briefly as they manhandled him into the cart and again on their arrival back at the garrison. But he had been weak and confused so Aramis curbed the impulse to question him about his injury. Since then Porthos had slept although it wasn't a peaceful sleep. He kept trying to shift position before giving a gasp of pain and subsiding.

It was still dark when Athos quietly slipped into the infirmary. "Any change?"

Aramis shook his head. "No better and no worse."

"That's positive then. If his liver or kidney had been hit surely we would know by now."

"Not necessarily. We have to watch for blood in his urine. That is the only true indicator."

Porthos moved again before groaning and opening his eyes. His pain filled gaze switched between Athos and Aramis. "What the hell happened?" he said, his voice raspy and weak.

"Welcome back." Aramis fetched a cup of water and helped Porthos to drink.

"What do you remember?" Athos asked.

Porthos closed his eyes while he considered the question. "I was playin' cards. Doin' pretty well too."

"Who were you playing with?" Aramis asked.

Porthos hesitated while he searched his memory."Giroud, Perod and Bertrand."

"All of them Red Guard," Athos said.

"Well, they're easy marks," Porthos smile wasn't quite up to its usual standard.

"What happened next?" Aramis asked.

Porthos frowned. "That's all a bit hazy."

"Who stabbed you?" asked Athos.

"One of 'em said somethin' about the Cardinal and then there was a pain in my side. They'd knocked me around quite a bit by then and my head was none too clear. I don't remember anythin' else."

"Never mind. You need rest. Maybe it will become clearer," Aramis said.

"I'll go and update Treville."

After Athos had gone and Porthos had dropped off to sleep Aramis brooded. Giroud, Perod and Bertrand. He knew them all. Which one had done the deed? Well, as far as he was concerned, they were equally guilty and must be punished. The reference to the Cardinal suggested that this was his next move against them. Had he wanted Porthos dead or hadn't he cared about the outcome? Richelieu was careless of lives. He must know that they would exact vengeance. Didn't he care about his own men?

"Aramis."

"You're supposed to be asleep."

"You've got that look about you."

"What look?"

"The one that says you're ready to kill someone."

Aramis looked away. "You're imagining things, my friend."

"Don't play the Cardinal's game. He's not worth it."

"I'm supposed to let this pass?" Aramis asked angrily. "You could have been killed."

"I wasn't though, was I?" Porthos grimaced as he unwisely moved. "You know that dueling in forbidden. Do you want to end up in the Chatelet?"

"It wouldn't be my first choice. Go back to sleep. We'll talk again once you're stronger."

"I want your word that you're not goin' to do anythin' stupid," Porthos persisted stubbornly.

That wasn't a promise Aramis was prepared to make. "Sleep Porthos."

Weakness was Porthos' enemy. His eyes began to close despite his visible fight to stay awake. Aramis watched Porthos slip into sleep and went back to planning his revenge.

TMTMTM

"Dueling is illegal," Athos said patiently. "You know what will happen if you're caught." It was an argument he and Aramis had been having off and on for two days.

"They tried to kill Porthos. Don't you care about him?"

"Of course I do. I also care about you and don't want to see you hauled off to jail."

"I'm not going to let this go unpunished. Are you going to help me or not?"

Athos sighed. "What do you think?" He saw Aramis' expression brighten. "Can you at least wait until Porthos is stronger?"

"He's making a good recovery. There have been no complications."

"That's all well and good but I don't want to have to tell him you're dead or in prison."

Aramis grinned. "Have faith."

"Oh, I have faith alright. Faith that you'll find yourself in a whole mess of trouble."

"Well, you'll be there to get me out of it."

Athos shook his head. Aramis was irrepressible and impossible to sway once he had made his mind up. He wondered if Treville would have more luck but didn't want to betray Aramis' intentions to the Captain. With an air of resignation, he followed Aramis back into the infirmary.

Tbc


	8. Chapter 8

**Richelieu's Revenge**

 **Chapter Eight**

The Cardinal kept Treville waiting for almost an hour. Needless to say the Captain's temper was frayed by the time he was admitted to Richelieu's presence.

"Captain. What can I do for you?"

"Three of your men attacked Porthos two nights ago."

Richelieu finished reading the document in front of him and signed it with a flourish. "I heard."

"Well, what are you doing about it?"

"They have been suspended from duty without pay for a week and confined to barracks."

Treville's ire increased. "That is hardly a suitable punishment."

"There are two sides to every story, Treville. They say Porthos was cheating them at cards."

"Even if he were that doesn't justify stabbing him."

"It was a tavern brawl that got slightly out of hand. That's all."

"Slightly?" Treville was incensed. "He nearly died."

"But he didn't. You can't expect me to sacrifice three of my best men for one dishonest Musketeer."

"Porthos is not dishonest."

"There we must agree to disagree. Now, is there something more I can help you with? I am very busy."

"My men won't let this rest."

"Tell them to be very careful. Premeditated violence will be harshly dealt with. I suggest, Captain, that you spend more time controlling your men and less telling me how to do my job."

"This isn't over. I will petition the King."

"His Majesty has far more important things on his mind. This is a petty feud which should be forgotten."

"The life of one of my men isn't petty. I warn you that any further attempt to kill or injure on of my Musketeers will provoke a severe backlash."

"Dear me. How indiscrete you are. If the King were to hear of your threats he might decide you are no longer fit to be in charge of the Musketeer regiment. It would be a pity if he were to decide they are too undisciplined to survive."

Treville reined in his temper. This was no idle threat. If wholesale warfare broke out between the Musketeers and the Red Guard the results could be catastrophic. With the uncomfortable knowledge that he had lost this battle Treville left.

TMTMTM

Treville decided to make his rounds of his men. Aramis and Athos were both on duty, guarding the throne room. The King, surrounded by his sycophantic courtiers, was in a good mood. The Queen, serene in the midst of her blossoming pregnancy, sat beside him. For a while he surreptitiously watched his men. Whenever a member of the Red Guard came into the chamber Aramis' expression would turn openly murderous. He could see Athos speaking softly to his companion, no doubt trying to calm him down. He decided that it was a blessing that the three men in question were confined to barracks even if only for a short time.

He walked over and stood in front of his two Musketeers. "I have just spoken to the Cardinal. The three men who attacked Porthos have been punished. The matter is at an end."

"Have they been handed over to the Court for judgement?" Aramis asked aggressively.

"No. Listen to me, Aramis. The Cardinal would like nothing better than for you to pick a fight with them. If any one of them turns up injured or dead you're the one who will face justice."

"Where's the justice for Porthos?"

Treville shook his head. "Sometimes you just have to let it go. I am ordering you, both of you, not to seek retribution. If you do, I won't be able to protect you."

"We understand," Athos said.

Aramis, very pointedly, failed to acknowledge the order. Treville would have challenged him on it but the King called him over to discuss a hunt he wanted organized for the next day.

"You heard the Captain," Athos said, once they were alone.

"Yes."

"If you disobey him you will hand victory to the Cardinal. Is that what you want?"

"I want someone to pay for what happened to Porthos."

"Sometimes life is unfair. I want your word that you won't go seeking trouble."

Aramis' shoulders slumped. "It appears I have no choice. But, know this, Athos. If trouble comes looking for me I won't run from it."

"I know."

TMTMTM

A week passed and Porthos continued to recover. He had been released from the infirmary and was permitted to undertake some light exercise. It would still be another week or so before he was fit for duty. On the Saturday night d'Artagnan persuaded Aramis to accompany him to a tavern. There was no longer talk about challenging the men responsible to a duel and Aramis' mood had gradually returned to normal.

They ordered wine and food and settled down to a companionable evening.

"Athos is doing well," d'Artagnan said. "He hasn't touched a drop of wine for three weeks."

"When he puts his mind to something there is very little he can't do. His will power is strong."

"And Porthos is healing nicely."

"He was fortunate." A shadow crossed Aramis' face.

D'Artagnan noticed and decided that a change of subject was necessary. "The King is planning a series of hunts now that there's been a break in the weather. There's even talk of moving the court to Fontainebleau for a while. I don't suppose the Queen will come. It wouldn't be very comfortable for her to travel."

"She never was very fond of hunting. She prefers quieter pursuits."

"It would be nice to get out of the city though before winter really sets in."

"The country air would do Porthos good too." Aramis smiled at the serving girl who was delivering bowls of stew and a platter of bread.

"It's certainly better than standing guard at those interminable council meetings."

"That's true. Relations with Spain have certainly soured lately. It's all they ever seem to discuss."

D'Artagnan dipped a piece of bread into his bowl. "Do you think it will come to war?"

"The political climate is unsettled across much of Europe. Now the King of Spain is laying claim to lands historically owned by France. War is a possibility."

"What's it like?"

Aramis thought for a moment. "Much of the time you're waiting for something to happen. Conditions in the camp are primitive. Food becomes scarce and boredom sets in. Then, when there is fighting, it is brutal hand to hand combat. Afterwards you have to deal with the dead and injured. No, I wouldn't wish for another war."

"Well, well. If it isn't two of the Musketeers."

Aramis was on his feet before the sneering voice had finished speaking. He found himself almost nose to nose with Perod, who was flanked by Giroud and another Red Guard that Aramis didn't recognise.

"What do you want?" Aramis asked.

"Thanks to your friend we haven't been able to leave the barracks for the last week."

"That's the least you deserved."

D'Artagnan stood up and laid a hand on Aramis' arm. "We're not looking for trouble," he said.

"That's a shame," Perod said. "Because me and the boys need to let off some steam."

"Which of you cowards stabbed Porthos?" Aramis asked.

"Now that's just insulting, calling us cowards. We're more than a match for you and your friends."

"Who was it?" Aramis persisted.

"Wouldn't you like to know?" Perod grinned nastily.

Aramis lashed out with his right fist, catching Perod on the chin. The Red Guard staggered backwards, colliding with a table. When he regained his balance he glared at Aramis.

"What was that for?"

"You're obviously looking for a fight and we're happy to oblige."

"Aramis!" d'Artagnan hissed.

"Oh, I'll fight you alright but not here. You've insulted my honour. Dawn tomorrow at the Luxembourg Gardens."

"Swords or pistols?"

"I know of your reputation with a gun and I'm not feeling suicidal. Swords."

"Aramis, think about what you're doing," d'Artagnan said.

"I didn't go looking for this but I'm not going to back away from it either. Will you come with me as my second?"

Faced with the inevitable, d'Artagnan could only agree reluctantly.

Once Perod and his friends had gone Aramis sat down to resume his interrupted meal. He was smiling happily and there was no sign of any apprehension about the coming duel.

D'Artagnan looked troubled. "Don't you think that was a little too convenient? It's like they came here specifically to goad you into a duel."

Aramis shrugged. "It's all the same to me."

"What is Athos going to say? Or Treville?"

"They don't need to know. This is just between us."

"Is there anything I can say to persuade you to change your mind?"

"I won't be branded a coward. The challenge has been issued and accepted. Can I count on you?"

"Of course."

"Good. Have some more wine."

The mood of the evening had been shattered. Try as he might d'Artagnan couldn't shake the thought that this was all part of the Cardinal's plan.

Tbc


	9. Chapter 9

**Richelieu's Revenge**

 **Chapter Nine**

"They're where?" Treville asked with deceptive quietness.

Henri swallowed nervously. "The Chatelet."

"What are the charges?"

"The messenger didn't say."

"Find Athos. Quickly!"

He sat, drumming his fingers on the desk, and waited impatiently. When the knock came on the door he called out permission to enter. Athos wore an expression of mild curiosity, but not guilt. Whatever had happened he clearly had no knowledge of it.

"You wanted to see me, Captain?"

"Aramis and d'Artagnan have been arrested."

The look of concerned surprise was genuine. "When?"

"This morning apparently."

"Why?"

"I don't know for certain, but I can guess. The damned fools." He stood up and reached for his sword belt. "You're coming with me. Let's hope we can sort this out."

The ride to the Chatelet through the morning crowds took a long time. When they arrived Treville demanded to see the warden. The scruffy and odorous guard looked at him insolently.

"Warden's out."

"When will he be back?"

A shrug of the shoulders. "He didn't say."

"Then you can let me in to see two of your prisoners."

"Can't do that." The guard scratched at a flea bite on his arm. "Only the warden can authorize visitors."

"I am Captain Treville of the King's Musketeers and I demand to see my men."

"You can demand all you like. You ain't coming in."

Athos reached into his purse and withdrew two coins. He held them out. "I'm sure you can make an exception. No one need ever find out and you would be doing us a big favour."

The guard looked at the money and licked his lips. A grubby hand shot out and grabbed the coins. "Ten minutes."

"Thank you. Can you show us where they're being held?" Athos asked.

"This way."

They were booed and jeered by the occupants of the cells they passed. Finally the guard came to a halt before a stout wooden door.

"I'm going to have to lock you in with them," he said. He selected a key from the large bunch and slid it into the lock. When the door opened a foul smell emanated from the small room. Clearly the straw on the floor hadn't been changed for some considerable time.

Treville walked in first and there was a rustling noise. As his eyes adjusted to the dim light he saw two figures rising slowly to their feet. Athos entered behind him and the door slammed shut.

"Are you injured?" Treville asked.

"Some cuts and bruises," Aramis replied. "Nothing serious."

"And the charges against you?"

There was a fraught silence. Aramis bent his head, unable to sustain eye contact. "Dueling."

"What happened?" Athos asked.

"The Cardinal set a trap for us and we walked right into it," d'Artagnan said bitterly.

"I warned you."

"I know." Aramis glanced up briefly at his commanding officer before returning to his intent scrutiny of the floor.

"Start from the beginning," Treville ordered.

Aramis took a deep breath. "I was challenged by Perod, one of the men who attacked Porthos."

"Why?" Athos asked.

"I punched him after he taunted us about Porthos."

"You could have declined to fight," Treville said. "You must have had some inkling that you were being set up."

Aramis shuffled his feet in the dirty straw.

"You knew and chose to accept the challenge anyway," Athos accused. "Knowing the danger, how could you involve d'Artagnan?"

"No one forced me to go along," d'Artagnan said, in quick defence of his friend. "If it had been you, would you have let him go alone?"

"No," Athos conceded.

"What happened next?" Treville asked.

"We were to meet at dawn. When d'Artagnan and I got there we were ambushed by the Red Guard. There were too many of them to fight off."

"So the duel did not go ahead?" Treville asked.

"No."

"That helps. If you had fought and killed him I doubt if I could save you. The law is very strict, as you know." For a moment his anger shone through his hard-won composure.

"Was Perod arrested too?" Athos asked.

"I don't think so but things were pretty chaotic."

"What happens now?" d'Artagnan asked apprehensively.

"I petition the King for your release. You can be sure the Cardinal will oppose me. It's been less than three weeks since the problem with Athos. The King might not be receptive." Treville's anger broke through. "You do realise you have put the fate of the regiment in jeopardy?"

"I'm sorry, Captain."

"You should be."

The door was unlocked and the guard beckoned to Treville and Athos. "Time to go."

Seeing how miserable Aramis and d'Artagnan looked, Treville moderated his tone. "I will do all I can."

Athos clasped hands with Aramis and then d'Artagnan. "I will see you soon brothers."

They left the cell and walked quickly back to their horses.

"How do you think the King will react?" Athos asked.

"I don't know, but you should prepare yourself for the worst."

TMTMTM

"I'm not inclined to grant your petition, Treville. Your men know the penalty for dueling."

"No duel actually took place, Your Majesty."

"That was only because my men were proactive and arrested the trouble makers before they could fight," Richelieu said, with undisguised satisfaction.

"One of your men was involved as well," Treville said. "Was he arrested?"

"He was the injured party."

"He's the one who challenged Aramis to a duel."

"Oh, do stop squabbling. You're giving me a headache."

"The fact that the Red Guard was waiting for them just goes to show that this was a set up," Treville said. "The Cardinal's man was one of those who attacked Porthos last week. There was clearly bad blood between the regiments as a result and it was easy to bait Aramis into agreeing to fight. This whole thing was engineered so that my men would be arrested."

The King turned to the Cardinal. "Is this true, Cardinal?"

"I can't answer for Treville's farfetched conspiracy theories, Sire. There was an incident involving Porthos but it was a mere tavern brawl."

"Porthos was stabbed," Treville said angrily. "He was set upon by three Red Guard and was lucky to escape with his life."

The Queen, who until that time had been sitting listening quietly laid a hand on the King's arm. "It sounds as if Aramis had provocation, Sire. He and d'Artagnan are loyal soldiers. Surely you don't want to be deprived of their service?"

"You are too kind hearted, my dear. The Musketeers broke the law and the penalty is very clear."

"Technically no law was broken. The duel did not take place," Treville said unwisely.

The King's eyes narrowed. "Semantics, Treville. The intent was there."

"It occurs to me to wonder how the Red Guard knew about the arrangements," Treville persisted.

"Perod told his Captain. He was ashamed of his part and wished to make amends," Richelieu said smugly.

"Very convenient."

"You're not helping your cause, Treville," the King said.

"The penalty for dueling is death," Richelieu said. "Their guilt is clear. They should be taken out and shot."

"Now, now, Cardinal, let's not be quite so hasty," the King said. "Things are not as clear cut as you seem to think." He turned to Treville. "I am very angry with you. This is the second time you have had to plead for your men. Perhaps I need a new Captain who can keep his men in line."

Treville bowed. "That is Your Majesty's prerogative."

"Yes, it is. I must give this more thought. Return tomorrow and I will deliver my ruling."

Treville backed out of the royal presence, hoping that he had done enough to convince the King to pardon Aramis and d'Artagnan. If not, this would be their last night on earth.

Tbc


	10. Chapter 10

**Richelieu's Revenge**

 **Chapter Ten**

D'Artagnan sat with his back pressed against the cold stone. He shivered as the chill penetrated his doublet and sent icy fingers running down his spine. Aramis was in the opposite corner, sitting with his knees drawn up to his chest. Each was lost in thought. They had ceased to notice the smell and no sound filtered through the door and thick walls. It felt as if they were living in a cocoon, suspended in time.

"Do you think the King will listen to Treville?" d'Artagnan asked.

"The Captain will do his best." Aramis wasn't about to lie to the young man. He estimated their chances for survival at less than fifty/fifty. The Cardinal would be there urging the King to follow the law and they all knew how fond the King was of Richelieu. "I'm sorry, d'Artagnan. This is all my fault."

"I didn't have to go with you this morning. That was my choice. I knew the risks."

"You are a good friend. Better than I deserve." He gave a rueful smile. "Porthos is going to be very angry with us."

That was an understatement. If they were executed Porthos would be inconsolable. They would have to rely on Athos to manage his own grief while keeping Porthos from doing anything rash.

When the key grated in the lock they both scrambled to their feet. They relaxed when a guard entered carrying two bowls. He put them on the ground before backing out. The door closed again.

Aramis approached the food warily and peered suspiciously into the bowl. A watery stew filled the vessel. He couldn't see any evidence of meat or anything recognizable as vegetables. "Not up to the standard of our usual fare," he said before carrying the bowls over to d'Artagnan.

The liquid was tepid and greasy but they'd both eaten worse and knew the value of consuming food when the opportunity arose.

It was impossible to measure the passing of the hours, but they finally accepted that they weren't going to get an answer that day. They'd been provided with a thin blanket each which they wrapped around themselves before settling down in the straw. It was a long time before they slept.

TMTMTM

Athos was at the Captain's door shortly after dawn. Treville muttered irritably as he finished dressing. Neither looked as if they had slept well. Shortly after, they were joined by Porthos.

"You should be resting," Treville said.

"I'll rest easier once Aramis and d'Artagnan are back."

"Porthos…"

"Don't say it. The King is goin' to release them," he said with desperate determination.

Athos laid a hand on his shoulder. "We have to face the fact that he might not."

"Are you givin' up on them?" Porthos asked angrily.

"Of course not. I'm just being realistic."

"I don't want to hear it."

Treville finished buttoning up his doublet. "Well, we won't get an answer standing around here. Porthos, you're not well enough to go to the palace."

"Just try and stop me," Porthos growled.

"It might not do any harm to remind the King of Porthos' injury," Athos said. "After all, that was why Aramis accepted the challenge to a duel."

"Oh, very well. But don't blame me if you keel over," Treville said with exasperation.

"I'll see that the horses are saddled," Athos said.

He headed for the stables and gave the grooms their instructions. When Treville and Porthos joined him, he helped Porthos to mount and they all set out for the palace. Now that the time had come he was terrified about the answer they were going to receive although he wouldn't have admitted that to anyone. Would they be bringing Aramis and d'Artagnan home? He just didn't know the answer to that question.

TMTMTM

It was ten o'clock before the King made an appearance for breakfast. Anne, who seemed to be perpetually hungry as her pregnancy progressed, was unamused. She was even less pleased to see that Louis was accompanied by the Cardinal.

"There you are, my dear." Louis stooped and kissed her cheek. "The Cardinal insists that he has urgent business to discuss so I invited him to join us."

"Your Majesty is too generous," Anne said. Years of practice enabled her to keep the sarcasm out of her voice.

As soon as the King sat down servants began scurrying around bringing dishes of food and filling their goblets with wine. Anne and Richelieu waited while the King was served first.

"Well, Cardinal, what's so urgent that you have to disturb my breakfast?" the King asked, his attention wholly focused on the plate of food in front of him.

"It is a delicate matter," Richelieu said, shooting a look at the Queen.

"I will withdraw if you wish," Anne said stiffly.

"Nonsense. You can speak freely, Cardinal."

Richelieu didn't look happy about that. "It's about Captain Treville and the Musketeers."

"A more loyal group of men you won't find anywhere," Anne said, in quick defence.

Richelieu gave her a sour look. "Loyal, yes, but undisciplined."

"There does seem to have been a few incidents lately," the King said thoughtfully.

"Captain Treville has always displayed exemplary behavior," Anne said.

"True, but he does seem to have lost control of his men. First Athos, and now Aramis and d'Artagnan in jail for dueling. A more competent commander would have ensured his men abided by the law." The Cardinal gave her a triumphant look.

"As I recall one of your men was also involved," Anne said sweetly.

"Hah! She's got you there, Cardinal."

"Indeed, Sire. Nonetheless, we aren't discussing the Red Guard. It is the Musketeer regiment which is making you look bad."

Louis frowned. "No one makes me look bad," he said icily. "I am the King."

Richelieu bowed his head in acknowledgment causing Anne to give a slight smile.

"I like Captain Treville," Louis continued. "He's plain spoken. None of this beating about the bush nonsense. I don't see that a failing by a few of his men justifies his removal."

"You have to admire his loyalty to his men," Anne said. "He will always stand up for them no matter the hopelessness of the cause."

"Which brings us to the case of Aramis and d'Artagnan," Richelieu said smoothly.

"Brave soldiers who never hesitate to face any danger in defence of the monarchy," Anne said.

"That's what they're paid for," the King said. "Besides I have plenty more soldiers."

"You forgave Athos because of his actions in saving my life. Aramis and d'Artagnan were equally involved in that dreadful incident. As was Captain Treville and he had an injured shoulder at the time." Anne's stomach was becoming unsettled as she fought to save the man she loved.

"I'm sure we are all very grateful for their actions but that doesn't excuse every misdemeanor."

"Quite right, Cardinal."

"Surely you can show leniency, Sire. They didn't actually fight and no one was injured."

"That is a consideration." The King pushed his plate away irritably. "I've lost my appetite now and you're both giving me a headache."

"That was never our intent." Anne laid a hand over Louis'. "Why don't you rest, and I'll convey your decision to Captain Treville."

"Thank you, my dear, but I'm the King and I'll tell him myself."

"You have made a decision?" Richelieu asked.

"Yes."

"May I enquire as to what it is?"

"No, Cardinal, you may not. I will announce it in due course. Now, I want you both to leave me in peace."

Anne stood and curtsied, making sure that the King's attention was drawn to her rounded belly. It never hurt to remind him that she was carrying France's heir. Richelieu bowed in a flourish of black robes and followed her from the room.

"I'm surprised you were so passionate in defence of the Musketeers."

"They saved my life. I honour my debts."

"It was their duty to protect you. I have to wonder if there is another reason."

Anne's hand strayed almost involuntarily to her belly, suddenly terrified that Richelieu knew about her and Aramis. "I don't know what she mean," she said, before hurrying back to her rooms.

Tbc


	11. Chapter 11

**Richelieu's Revenge**

 **Chapter Eleven**

The King made them wait until mid-afternoon. Porthos endured it with a stoicism that Athos admired. All efforts to persuade him to return to the garrison failed. Finally they were summoned before the King. The Queen, looking pale, sat by his side and Richelieu stood by his shoulder like a malevolent crow.

The King's gaze roved over Treville, Athos and Porthos, narrowing when he beheld the injured Musketeer. "Well, Treville, I have made my decision. The actions of your men were reckless and reflect poorly on the regiment. By rights they should be executed." He paused. "However, I am aware the duel didn't actually take place. I have also taken into account the fact that it was a Red Guard who issued the challenge and that it all arose from an earlier incident where Porthos was injured. Your men, Captain, will stay in the Chatelet for a week. Maybe that will give them time to reflect upon their actions."

"Your Majesty is merciful," Treville said.

"Best you remember that, Treville. Any further incidents will be harshly dealt with. I suggest you bring your men under control or you might find yourself unemployed."

Treville bowed, followed hurriedly by Athos and Porthos. Athos noticed that the Queen looked weak with relief while Richelieu was scowling. The Cardinal's expression quickly cleared and he looked at them impassively. Athos wondered what he was thinking. He had been thwarted twice and was unlikely to let matters rest.

"May I have leave to convey the news to Aramis and d'Artagnan?" Treville asked.

"Oh, I suppose so."

"Thank you, Sire." Treville bowed again and backed away from the throne.

Once they were in the hallway all three of them broke out with relieved smiles.

"I detect the Queen's hand in this," Treville said. "Her influence with the King is substantial now that she is to bear a child."

Only Athos, who knew the truth, felt apprehensive. By championing the Musketeers she was likely to make the Cardinal suspicious. He would have to warn Aramis to be very careful and wished there was some way he could make the Queen aware of his unease.

"Richelieu has lost again," Porthos said with satisfaction.

"Which makes him even more dangerous," Athos warned.

"We can worry about the Cardinal another time. I'm going to the Chatelet. Athos, get Porthos back to the garrison. Aramis would be very unhappy if he thought this escapade had delayed a recovery."

Athos and Porthos acquiesced. There was nothing more they could do anyway. They parted company and Porthos walked slowly towards the horses.

"I'm goin' to have a few things to say to Aramis once he's released. He must have been out of his mind accepting that challenge. He's lucky the King's in a good mood. On any other day he and d'Artagnan could have been shot."

Athos sympathized. "He was maneuvered into a corner. He couldn't have refused without compromising his honour. Besides, he'd just been looking for an excuse. You know that."

"Stubborn fool," Porthos said, but it was said with fondness.

"It takes one to know one," Athos said as they arrived at the horses. "You know as well as I do that you shouldn't have come today. Here, let me help you."

Once in the saddle, Porthos swayed with weariness. "I could do with a lie down."

"I'm sure we can arrange that. Try not to fall off until we get back to the garrison."

"You're all heart," Porthos grumbled.

Athos, with a slight tilt of the lips, led the way home.

TMTMTM

As the time wore on without any news Aramis began to lose hope. He could see the same realization on d'Artagnan's face but the young man expressed no fear. Aramis was devastated by the knowledge that he had brought a premature end to a promising life. D'Artagnan had it in him to be the best of them all and now would never get the chance to prove that. Also wearing on his mind was the fact that he would never see Athos and Porthos again. They had been his lifeline on more than one occasion and he didn't think he had done enough to express his gratitude.

When the door opened and Captain Treville walked in Aramis hurriedly scrambled to his feet.

"The King has commuted your death sentence," he said without any preamble.

A slow smile spread across Aramis' face. It was mirrored exactly by d'Artagnan.

"So we're free?" d'Artagnan asked.

"Not exactly. You will spend the next week here and I hope you will use the time to consider the stupidity that landed you here in the first place. Any more trouble between the Musketeers and the Red Guard will have deadly consequences."

"Thank you, Captain." Aramis held out his hand and Treville clasped it firmly.

"I think you should thank the Queen. Yesterday Louis wasn't showing any signs of leniency."

Aramis looked at the floor, not wanting Treville to read anything in his face. He felt a warm glow knowing that Anne had spoken up for them. She had given him the greatest gift – the chance to see his child.

"I'll see that better food is sent in for you," Treville said. "Beyond that I can't do anything to make your stay more pleasant."

"We'll manage," d'Artagnan assured him. "Thank you."

"Stay out of trouble. I'll see you in a week."

TMTMTM

Richelieu was frustrated. Just as he'd thought he'd won luck had swung in favour of the Musketeers. If only the Queen hadn't interfered! She was known to be soft hearted but the fervor with which she had fought for the lives of Aramis and d'Artagnan had been a surprise. Was it motivated by more than simple loyalty?

He'd been watching her and Aramis for some time, ever since he had come upon the two of them together on the day her pregnancy was announced. Had something happened at the convent? It seemed quite coincidental that, after years of barrenness, she should now be bearing a child. Had they committed the most heinous form of treason? Was her child a Musketeer's bastard?

Louis would never believe him without solid proof. He decided to send an emissary to the convent to speak to the nuns. Maybe one of them had seen something. If Aramis and the Queen had slept together it was likely that Athos knew but Richelieu had no hopes of the man confessing as much. No, the weak link was the Queen herself. He'd seen the furtive glances passing between her and Aramis. Perhaps once the child was born they would do something to betray themselves.

In the meantime he could still make life difficult for Treville and his men. The King had made it clear that one more incident would result in severe repercussions. It would be eminently satisfying to deprive Treville of his post as Captain. Had he been too subtle up to now? Was a more direct approach warranted? He certainly owed d'Artagnan for his deception. The boy had even managed to fool Milady and that was quite a feat. He wondered briefly where she had disappeared to. It was an annoyance. She could have helped him to plot his revenge. He quickly dismissed her from his thoughts and settled down to plan his next move.

Tbc


	12. Chapter 12

**Richelieu's Revenge**

 **Chapter Twelve**

A week later Athos and Porthos were waiting outside the prison. Finally the gates opened and Aramis and d'Artagnan emerged. Both looked tired, with dark circles under their eyes. Porthos lunged for Aramis and grabbed him in a bear hug. Athos, being more restrained, held out a hand to d'Artagnan.

"What were you thinkin'," Porthos roared, causing Aramis to flinch at the volume.

"They weren't thinking. That was the trouble," Athos said.

"Porthos, I can't breathe." Aramis squirmed in the tight embrace.

Porthos released him and stepped back. "You stink."

"So would you if you'd just spent a week in prison. There weren't exactly any amenities," Aramis said.

"A bath would be nice," d'Artagnan said wistfully.

"I'm sure that can be arranged." Athos shepherded them away from the prison.

"I suppose Treville is angry," Aramis said.

Athos gave him a pitying look. "More like furious. I wouldn't be surprised if he gave you two the worst assignments for the next few weeks."

"That's not fair," d'Artagnan said. "We've served our sentence.

"Not in his eyes. Don't worry though. He'll forgive you….eventually."

Athos allowed Porthos and d'Artagnan to walk ahead and held out a hand to slow Aramis down.

"What's the matter?" Aramis asked.

"I am concerned that Richelieu might be getting suspicious. If Treville is right, the Queen advocated strongly for you and d'Artagnan. Added to that is the timing of her pregnancy and the fact that we were alone with her at the convent."

"We were hardly alone," Aramis protested.

Athos raised an eyebrow. "You didn't let that stop you."

Aramis' eyes narrowed before he gave a sheepish smile. Then he sobered. "She took a risk."

"Yes. Be very careful, Aramis. I've seen how you look at each other. It has to stop."

"I love her."

"She is the Queen. You can't love her, and neither can you love her child."

"It's difficult, Athos."

"If the truth comes out you will both be executed. Think of her safety if you won't pay attention to your own."

"Oi, are you two comin'" Porthos shouted.

Athos patted Aramis on the back. "Just think about what I've said."

Back at the garrison they encountered Captain Treville in the yard. He looked Aramis up and down and then gave the same treatment to d'Artagnan.

"Get cleaned up and then report to me. Athos. Porthos. You're due on duty at the palace.

He walked away while Aramis and d'Artagnan watched him apprehensively.

TMTMTM

Once he had washed and changed his shirt and underclothes Aramis began to feel better. He was immensely grateful to have been released. The conditions in the jail had been primitive and he was convinced that he had caught lice. That thought made him scratch an imaginary itch on his arm. He dragged a comb through his unruly hair and inspected it carefully. He gave a sigh of relief when he found nothing. Even so he decided he would give his hair a good wash later. He left his weapons lying on the bed and went to fetch d'Artagnan. Together, they approached Treville's office.

Aramis knocked and waited to be invited to enter. Treville sounded irritated, which didn't bode well for the coming interview. The Captain kept them standing to attention while he finished reading a document. When he looked up his displeasure was clear to see.

"I hope you two have thought long and hard on your stupidity."

D'Artagnan nodded enthusiastically.

Treville's eyes narrowed. "Aramis?"

"They deserved to be punished for what they did to Porthos."

"Yes, they did, but not by you."

"No one else was doing anything."

"Life frequently doesn't fall out the way we would like. That doesn't give you the right to break the law. This vendetta against the Red Guard is over. Do you understand me?"

"Yes, Captain."

"If I hear any more reports of trouble I will shoot you myself."

Aramis didn't believe that for a moment but the fact Treville had been moved to make the threat brought home the extent of the Captain's anxiety. He endured Treville's piercing stare, hoping that he was giving a sufficient impression of submission.

Treville broke eye contact and sat back in his chair. "You are both on night duty for the next two weeks. D'Artagnan, you will guard the King. Aramis, you are responsible for the Queen. And, you might thank Her Majesty if you see her. If not for her intervention you would both be dead."

Aramis' heart began to pound. To be so close to the Queen would be sweet torment. All thoughts of Athos' warning fled his mind. He began to look forward to going on duty.

TMTMTM

At nine o'clock that night Aramis took up his post outside the doors leading to the Queen's private apartments. Shortly after he arrived he heard the sound of female voices approaching up the staircase. The Queen, followed by three of her ladies, soon appeared and walked along the hallway towards him. He kept completely still, his gaze straight ahead.

As the Queen drew level with him he bowed and was acknowledged by a slight incline of her head. Then she was gone into her inner sanctum which even the King was forbidden to enter without her invitation.

He tried to concentrate on his duty, but all he could see was her beautiful face and the rounding of her body. His child…she was carrying his child. Try as he might he couldn't regret this consequence of their night together.

Time passed and the Queen's ladies left. The palace quietened. The door behind him opened.

"Aramis," the Queen said softly.

Startled he turned towards here. "Your Majesty. You shouldn't be here."

"Come in. Please."

Aramis looked around worriedly but there was no-one in sight. "That would be unwise. If someone were to come along I would be reported for deserting my post. And, if we were found out, think of the consequences."

"Just for a minute," she begged.

Much against his better judgement he followed her inside and closed the door. They stood close together without touching.

"I am pleased you have been released from the dreadful place," she said. "You are well?"

"Yes, thanks to you."

"It was nothing."

"You saved my life, and d'Artagnan's. You took a risk opposing the Cardinal. I wouldn't have you compromising your safety."

A look of fear crossed her face. "I think he suspects something. I'm frightened, Aramis."

It was unlike her to show such overt emotion and it worried him. "Even if he suspects there is no proof."

"The King doesn't need proof. If he even thought for a minute that this child wasn't his…" Her voice trailed away and she put a hand protectively on her rounded belly.

"Has the King shown any hint of suspicion?"

"No."

"Richelieu would be taking a grave risk by telling him without proof. If we are careful, all will be well." He took her hand and bent to kiss it. He held on for longer than was polite but she didn't object.

"I must go," he said. "Know that I am ever your loyal protector." He reluctantly released her hand and turned towards the door.

"Stay safe, Aramis."

"Try not to worry. Once the child is born it will be all the King thinks of. It would be a brave man who labelled it a bastard." He took a final look over his shoulder before opening the door a crack and peering out. Seeing no-one, he slipped outside and resumed his post.

Tbc


	13. Chapter 13

**Richelieu's Revenge**

 **Chapter Thirteen**

"Well?" Richelieu exuded impatience through every pore.

The Red Guard in front of him looked uncomfortable and wouldn't meet his eyes.

"Aramis was guarding the Queen last night. She invited him into her chambers."

No longer bored, Richelieu sat forward and clasped his hands together on his desk. "How long was he in there?"

"No more than five minutes."

Not long enough for a liaison but suspicious nonetheless. "You've done well. Return to your post and remember you do not speak of this to anyone."

"Yes, Your Eminence."

Once he was alone Richelieu sat back. It was unheard of for the Queen to interact in that way with a common soldier. Their actions implied an improper relationship. He was becoming more and more convinced that they were lovers and that the child she carried so proudly was nothing more than a Musketeer's bastard.

He would have to tread carefully. Treville and the Queen had evidence of his involvement in her attempted assassination. If he threw out accusations they would counter with one of their own. The ensuing battle would break the King's heart. He would be forced to choose between his First Minister and his wife, potentially losing his heir as a result.

His man was due back from the convent later today. He would see what had been uncovered before deciding on his next move. Meantime he would continue his chastisement of the Musketeers. His plans had gone awry twice. This time there would be no mistakes.

TMTMTM

"There's someone to see you."

D'Artagnan looked up from his meal as the guard from the gate walked away. He had just come to the end of his two-week punishment and was looking forward to a quiet day. He couldn't think who would be calling on him. He rose from the table and walked towards the gates. His steps slowed when he saw who was waiting for him.

"Madame Bonacieux. This is a surprise. What can I do for you?"

Constance looked taken aback by his formal greeting. "There's no need to be like that. I thought we were friends."

"I thought we were a great deal more than that. It appears we were both mistaken." Despite his words he was drinking in every aspect of her appearance. Her hair shone on the sunlight. The curves of her body reminded him vividly of the few times they had made love. She had been passionate, taking care to see to his needs as well as her own. He shook his head to dispel the vision. Then he really studied her face. Beneath the hurt was a deep worry. Despite his best intentions he moved closer. "Constance, what's wrong?"

She had never been a woman to cry easily but there were tears gathering in her eyes. "I didn't know where else to go."

For a moment his heart leapt in his chest. "Is it Jacques? Has he done something to you?"

"Oh no. It's nothing like that." She took a shaky breath.

"Come inside and tell me." He led her to the table where he had been eating and pushed the plates of food out of the way.

She sat in a rustle of shirts and pulled out a handkerchief which she used to dab her eyes. "Our house has been broken into twice in the last two weeks. They never take anything, just overturn the furniture and break the crockery. Then, this morning, I heard there is a rumour circulating that my husband is selling poor quality cloth and charging outrageous prices for it. It isn't true but imagine the damage it will do to his business. We could be ruined."

"Who would target you like this?"

"I have no idea. Jacques isn't the easiest man to get along with but I don't think we have any enemies who would be this vicious."

"When did the break ins happen?"

"Both times in the evening while I was out. Jacques is traveling on business so I am alone in the house at night. It must mean someone is watching my movements. I'm scared, d'Artagnan."

He suppressed the urge to put his arm around her shoulders and pull her close. The physical contact would only make a difficult situation much harder to bear. "You did the right thing. How long will Monsieur Bonacieux be away?"

"At least another two weeks."

"There isn't much I can do about the rumours except to squash them if I hear them. I can do something about the break-ins. I'll move back into your house until your husband returns. I'm sure Athos, Aramis and Porthos won't mind checking in the vicinity to see if anyone is watching you."

"You'd really do that for me? After everything I've put you through?"

"I love you, Constance, and always will." He held up a hand to forestall her interruption. "I understand and respect your loyalty to your husband. The fact that we can't be together will never stop me helping you when you're in need. Go home. I'll pack my things and be there as soon as I can."

She raised a hand to touch the side of his face, stopping when she was inches away. Her hand dropped. "Thank you, D'Artagnan."

He walked her to the gate and saw her safely on her way. Aramis was just coming into the yard as d'Artagnan was making his way to his room.

"Was that the lovely Madame Bonacieux I saw leaving? Have you and she made your peace?"

"It isn't like that. Someone is watching her and breaking into her house at night. I'm going to stay with her while her husband is away."

"Are you sure that's wise? You know how people gossip. Oh, I understand why you want to help her but think about her reputation. How would she feel if a rumour started that you and she were lovers?"

"I hadn't thought of that," d'Artagnan admitted. "But I've given her my word and no gentleman would go back on that."

"I suppose you're right."

"There's more than just the break ins going on. There is already a rumour about her husband's business that could bankrupt them. Why would anyone try to destroy them?"

Aramis frowned while he considered the problem. "This doesn't smell right. Whoever is behind it must have known Constance would come to you for help. I wonder if this is another of the Cardinal's schemes."

"What could he hope to gain?"

"Well, for one thing, it separates you from the rest of us and I can't say I'm happy about that."

"I can take care of myself."

"That's what Porthos always says and look what happened to him."

"I'll be on my guard."

"See that you are. We'll stop by from time to time too and, if someone is watching the house, we will root them out."

"I must go. I don't want to leave her alone for too long."

"You can't watch her twenty-four hours a day," Aramis warned. "You have your duties to attend to."

"I'm free today and tomorrow. I'll worry about the rest after that."

"Alright. I'll brief Athos and Porthos when they get back. Don't worry, d'Artagnan. We will get to the bottom of this."

Tbc


	14. Chapter 14

**Richelieu's Revenge**

 **Chapter Fourteen**

"You shouldn't have let him go," Athos said.

He and Porthos had returned to the garrison to be briefed by Aramis on the latest developments.

"How was I supposed to stop him?" Aramis asked, offended.

"Aramis is right. Nothin' stops d'Artagnan once he makes up his mind about somethin'."

"It was foolish of him."

"He cares about Constance and she is in trouble," Aramis said.

"Didn't you warn him about what people will say?" Athos asked.

"Of course I did. It made no difference."

Athos sighed. "I suppose I shouldn't be surprised. Well, gentlemen, I suggest we eat and then go to Madame Bonacieux's to strategise."

They had dinner and then walked out into the streets of Paris. It was only a short distance to Constance's house so they were soon knocking at her door. It opened a crack and d'Artagnan peered out. He grinned when he saw them and pulled it open wide. Aramis noted that he was armed with a pistol.

Constance was in the parlour and looked taken aback by this sudden influx of Musketeers.

"Good evening, Madame Bonacieux," Athos said, removing his hat. "We have come to lend what aid we can."

Constance flushed. "That really isn't necessary."

"I can assure you that it is," Aramis said. "Someone has to keep d'Artagnan out of trouble."

"I'll fetch some wine." She quickly returned with a tray loaded with four goblets and two bottles of wine. Athos declined but they others accepted and were soon sitting comfortably before the fire.

"I think I have a solution to the rumours about the quality of the cloth," Athos said. "Treville was talking about needing new winter cloaks made. I'm sure we can persuade him to buy the cloth from your husband. Once word gets out people should stop questioning his wares. The Musketeers would never buy anything substandard."

"You would do that?" Constance asked.

"Of course." Aramis took a mouthful of wine and swallowed before continuing. "We know the rumours are false."

"The other problem is more vexing," Athos continued. "For reasons which we don't need to go into we have attracted the enmity of the Cardinal. It's possible the break-ins are part of his plan to punish us."

"But why involve me? I've done nothing to him."

"We think it's his way of drawing out d'Artagnan," Aramis said.

"Then you have to go back to the garrison." Panicked, Constance appealed to d'Artagnan.

"I'm not leaving you until your husband returns."

"Please, d'Artagnan. I don't want anything to happen to you."

D'Artagnan crossed his arms and looked stubborn.

"I think one of us should stay on watch outside," Porthos said.

"I don't need a babysitter."

"That's as maybe, but we have Constance to consider," Athos said diplomatically.

"I can't ask any of you to stand guard outside all night," Constance said.

"It is no hardship. I have just come off a night shift and slept well today. I will stay," Aramis offered.

"Alright, but I still think you're all overreacting." D'Artagnan capitulated in the face of his brothers' determination.

They finished their wine and Aramis pulled his cloak tightly around his body. Although the winter had not been bitterly cold there was still a chill edge to the wind at night. Out of habit he checked his pistol even though he knew it was spotlessly clean and loaded.

The three Musketeers took their leave of Constance and d'Artagnan and returned to the street. Aramis looked around for the best vantage point, settling upon the wall of the house opposite Constance's front door.

"I'll do regular rounds of the house," he said.

"Be careful," Athos said. "There's not much light tonight which means there's lots of places for someone to hide."

"Don't concern yourself. We'll be fine."

Somewhat reluctantly Athos and Porthos left. Aramis took up his position and waited.

TMTMTM

D'Artagnan lay on the bed in his old room fully dressed. His unsheathed sword rested next to him and his pistol was close at hand. As he waited his mind wandered to the room next door where Constance was sleeping. They had never made love in the marital bed. Although they were already betraying Bonacieux they had, by unspoken agreement, avoided the room. Now d'Artagnan couldn't clear his mind of the memories and regrets.

He was still awake when the sound of breaking glass disturbed the peace of the night. He was instantly on his feet, sword and pistol at the ready. He rushed out of the room to be met by Constance.

"Get back and stay in your room," he ordered.

For a second it looked like she was going to argue but then she nodded and retreated. D'Artagnan warily walked down the stairs and into the parlour. A large stone lay on the floor surrounded by fragments of glass. He headed for the front door and pulled it open. As he reached the street he was joined by Aramis.

"Did you see anything?" d'Artagnan asked.

"No. I was checking the back of the house when I heard the glass breaking."

They split up to check the immediate vicinity. D'Artagnan had just reached the side of the building when he heard a shot, felt a sharp pain and then felt nothing at all.

When Aramis rushed around the corner he saw d'Artagnan lying on the ground unmoving. He scanned the area, aware that d'Artagnan was horribly exposed. When he reached his brother's side he hunkered down and peered through the gloom to see if there were any signs of life.

"D'Artagnan!" Constance hurtled around the corner.

"Get back inside," Aramis yelled. "It isn't safe out here."

"But…"

"Don't argue with me. Get inside. D'Artagnan will never forgive me if anything happens to you."

Their eyes met and Constance nodded miserably before hurrying back to the house. Aramis gripped d'Artagnan under the shoulders and began to pull him towards the front door. Another shot sounded and the ball hit the wall behind Aramis' head. He redoubled his efforts. More shots were fired, cutting off his route to the door. He dragged d'Artagnan behind the well and ducked down out of sight. In the darkness he couldn't see where the wound was. He pulled off his gloves and could feel the stickiness of blood coating the front of d'Artagnan's doublet. Aramis eased him up to see if he could feel anything on his back. There was no exit wound that he could find which meant that the ball was still lodged in the young man's body.

D'Artagnan lay lax under his hands as he pressed his fingers to the pulse point on his neck. He swore and pressed harder, then sat back, careful to keep his head below the level of the rim of the well.

"D'Artagnan, can you hear me?"

There was no response either by word or movement. Doors were starting to open in response to the gunfire although no-one was stupid enough to venture outside. Aramis bowed his head and prayed.

Tbc


	15. Chapter 15

**Richelieu's Revenge**

 **Chapter Fifteen**

Aramis had no time to spare to check on d'Artagnan. They were pinned down and under fire. Repeatedly he shot in the direction of their assailants before reloading and firing again. Without a clear target it was a hopeless task, only buying them seconds before the next salvo. Throughout it all d'Artagnan hadn't moved or made a sound. All Aramis could do was keep shooting and hope for rescue. The strain of the situation began to wear on him: his inability to ascertain if d'Artagnan lived driving him to distraction. Yet he persevered. He was all that stood between them and their attackers.

One minute he and d'Artagnan were alone. The next, the area was flooded with Musketeers.

"Fan out," Athos yelled. "Check every house."

Belatedly realising that they were safe, Aramis laid down his pistol and pulled off his glove. Fingers pressed to d'Artagnan's neck confirmed, to his relief, that there was a pulse. Athos knelt beside him.

"How bad?"

"I don't know but we need a doctor."

Athos gave the order before helping to carry d'Artagnan into the Bonacieux house. Constance was immediately there, her face pale.

"I'll fetch some water."

They eased d'Artagnan out of his doublet and inspected the wound. It was several inches above the heart but that didn't mean there wasn't serious internal damage.

"There's no exit wound," Aramis said. "The ball's still in there."

They washed the blood away to expose the ragged hole. "I don't have any of my supplies here," Aramis said, frustration evident in his voice. "We'll have to wait for the doctor."

A weak groan heralded d'Artagnan's return to consciousness. He looked blearily at the two men. "What happened?"

"You were shot. Lie still. The doctor will be here soon," Aramis said.

D'Artagnan accepted the advice, his normal healthy colour reduced to a pale mask. Shortly after the doctor arrived. It was the same man who had tended to Porthos after he was stabbed.

"You boys are keeping me busy," he said as he unpacked his bag. "Tell me what happened."

Aramis explained the situation and the doctor inspected the wound.

"We'll have to remove the ball. This is going to hurt. You might want to hold him down."

With a look of apology Aramis pressed down upon d'Artagnan's shoulders. Athos did the same with his legs. As the doctor began to probe the wound d'Artagnan began to buck against the hands holding him prisoner.

"It'll soon be over," Athos soothed. "Try to relax."

Contrary to Athos' words it wasn't done quickly. The ball, the doctor informed them, was lodged against a bone and it was tricky to get hold of it. D'Artagnan had fainted by the time it was successfully removed.

The doctor looked him over. "Probably for the best although he lasted longer than I expected." He turned to Constance who was standing in a corner of the room close to tears. "Madame, may I have a bowl filled with an inch of hot water?"

"Of course."

The doctor brought out some pouches of herbs. "I'm going to pack the wound rather than stitching it. We need to draw out any contaminants."

"Will he be alright?" Athos asked anxiously.

"There's always the risk of a fever, as you know. If he manages to avoid that he should make a full recovery. He's going to be sore for quite a while though. I'll leave you something for the pain."

D'Artagnan had woken up by the time the doctor had finished mixing the herbs and applying them to the wound. His gritted teeth were tangible evidence of his pain, but he didn't utter one word of complaint. Once he had been dosed with the pain medication he drifted off into an uneasy doze.

Leaving him in Constance's care Athos and Aramis went outside. Dawn had broken, and the sun was just peeking over the horizon. Aramis sat wearily on the wall of the well. They hadn't been there long before Porthos appeared looking pleased.

"We found them. Scurryin' away like rats they were. Had to shoot them, though, to stop them getting' away."

"That was unfortunate," Athos said. "It would have been useful to ask them some questions."

Porthos shrugged unapologetically. "Bit late for that. How's d'Artagnan?"

"Resting. The outlook is good," Aramis replied. "I suggest we leave him here for now. I'm sure Constance won't mind looking after him. We can take it in turns to help her. Once he's stronger we can move him back to the garrison."

"Agreed. Well, I should go and report to Treville," Athos said.

"Wait. How did you know we needed help?" Aramis asked.

Athos smiled, a rare event which lit up his features. "Constance climbed through a window at the back of the house and came to the garrison. That girl has the heart of a Musketeer."

"She's wasted on that miserable bastard she's married to," Porthos said.

"I don't disagree. Unfortunately, they are married and there's nothing anyone can do about it." Athos put on his hat. "I'll be back as soon as I can."

TMTMTM

Athos finished his report and waited for his commanding officer to speak.

"You still think this is the Cardinal's doing?" Treville asked.

"There's no proof but it can't be a coincidence that each of us has been targeted."

"I think it's time I had a word with him."

"Do you think that will make any difference?"

Treville sighed. "There's no guarantee of that. It's a pity last night's assailants were killed."

"I don't think Porthos would agree with you. They'd attacked Aramis and d'Artagnan and that was enough to seal their fate."

"Maybe if someone can identify them we will find a link leading back to the Cardinal." Treville stood up. "I'm going to the palace. I'll check in on d'Artagnan later."

Athos walked down to the stable with him and saw him off. He knew that Treville would do everything in his power to protect them, but they were up against a powerful and cunning adversary. He was very thoughtful as he wended his way back to the Bonacieux house.

Tbc


	16. Chapter 16

This is the final chapter and some of you might find it unsatisfying. What you have to remember is that Richelieu was the most powerful man in France and the Musketeers were just common soldiers. They had got the better of him once. It was never going to happen again. The end of the chapter takes us to a few days prior to the start of season 2. Of course, Richelieu didn't die at this stage in history, it was all a contrivance to account for the departure of the actor. However, I have followed the events in the series and you will find references to events that were to happen in episode 2.1. Thanks for reading.

 **Richelieu's Revenge**

 **Chapter Sixteen**

Richelieu was at breakfast when Treville barged in.

"Treville. This is most inconvenient."

"D'Artagnan was shot last night."

"Oh dear." Richelieu reached for another pastry. "Is he dead?"

"No." Treville looked for some change of expression and saw none. The Cardinal was far too good at this game to give away his thoughts.

"Your men have become remarkably accident prone recently."

"You and I both know that this was no accident. Neither was Porthos' stabbing."

"Are you accusing me of something, Captain?"

"Ever since the…incident with the Queen my best men have been targeted. First you tried to have Athos' commission stripped from him. Then one of your men stabbed Porthos which led to Aramis and d'Artagnan being arrested. Now d'Artagnan has been ambushed and shot."

Richelieu took a sip of wine. "You make me sound positively Machiavellian. Why would I trouble to go after your men when I have so many other more important matters to attend to? In case you hadn't noticed we are inching ever closer to war with Spain."

"You don't like losing."

"No-one does. Tell me, do you have any evidence of my involvement?"

Treville hesitated. "Apart from pressing for Athos to lose his commission and for Aramis and d'Artagnan to be executed, no. But, I warn you, if anything else happens to them I will go to the Queen and we will expose your plot."

"You would really destabilize France at such a critical time?"

That gave Treville pause. Richelieu was right about the looming war with Spain. If he were to be overthrown now it would leave the King isolated at a time when wise counsel was necessary. He might dislike Richelieu and his methods but the Cardinal was a gifted statesman. "You know I would never do anything to the detriment of the King or country."

"Precisely, Captain. So I suggest you keep your wild accusations to yourself. The lives of four Musketeers are nothing when compared with the future of France. Having said that, I think your men have suffered enough. They have nothing to fear from me."

Treville relayed that message to the Musketeers when he went to check on d'Artagnan's progress. "It's as close as he will ever come to a confession."

"Do you believe him?" Athos asked.

"He might be duplicitous but, yes, I do. Relations with Spain are fraught and only the Cardinal's silver tongue has prevented war so far. I doubt if he has the time or the energy to pursue his vendetta against you."

"So he will go unpunished?" d'Artagnan asked. He was still pale and in pain but his wound was clean and he was free of infection.

"I'm afraid so." Treville took his leave after thanking Constance for her care of d'Artagnan.

"It hardly seems right," Porthos complained.

"He's the First Minister of France," Athos reminded them. "We were lucky the last time to find proof of his involvement in the plot to kill the Queen. We were unlikely to be so fortunate again."

"We could have appealed to the Queen," d'Artagnan suggested.

Aramis shook his head. "She recognised how useful he was. That's why she didn't immediately go to the King. We have no proof that we could offer her to make her change her mind. No, Treville is right, we will have to be content with his assertion that his feud with us is over."

It was a bitter pill to swallow after everything that had befallen them but their hands were tied. Aramis checked d'Artagnan's wound before he, Athos and Porthos returned to the garrison. They left Constance in charge of the invalid.

At midday she brought him some soup and stayed with him while he ate.

"It's good of you to look after me," he said.

"I would do the same for anyone." She saw his crestfallen expression and steeled herself for what she had to say. "This changes nothing. You know that?"

He looked at her steadily and didn't know how clear his longing was. "I know. You made your choice and I respect that."

Her heart breaking she left him alone. In the privacy of her bedroom she gave way to a storm of tears. Yes, she had made her choice and she regretted it every second of the day. But, there was no way for them to be together and she needed to find a way to reconcile herself to that truth. Meanwhile d'Artagnan, alone and in pain, was struggling just as much as she was. To him, a world without Constance was like a world without sunlight. He drifted off to sleep with the memory of her in his arms and wasn't aware of the single tear sliding down his cheek.

TMTMTM

Four months later.

A servant entered the King's private dining room where he and the Queen were eating breakfast. The man hurried over and bent down, speaking quietly. The King's fork fell from his fingers and clanged harshly against the plate.

Anne leaned forward, concerned by the stricken look on her husband's face. "Louis? What's wrong?"

"The Cardinal."

Her heart lurched. What had the Cardinal done? She felt her child kick in her womb and a wave of fear washed over her. She was due to deliver any day. Had the Cardinal chosen now to express his suspicions to the King? Then common sense reasserted itself. That wasn't the kind of news a servant would be sent to deliver.

Louis stood up and looked down at her. "He's ill."

Curious, she followed the King to the Cardinal's bed chamber. Richelieu lay propped up by pillows surrounded by frightened servants and the royal physician.

"What's wrong with him?" Louis demanded to know.

The doctor bowed. "He's had a seizure, Your Majesty."

"He'll be alright though, won't he?"

"It's too soon to tell."

Anne looked at Richelieu who had his eyes closed. His hands lay lax on the covers. Suddenly he didn't look so formidable.

"We will know more when he wakes up," the doctor said.

Louis sat on the edge of the bed and picked up the Cardinal's right hand. "He's so cold."

"The blood flow has been interrupted, Sire."

"Cardinal? Cardinal, can you hear me? You can't leave me. You have to wake up."

Despite his pleading Richelieu lay as if dead. Only the slight rise and fall of the sheet showed that he was still breathing.

Anne walked to Louis' side. "Is there anything I can do?"

He gave her a wan smile. "You rest, my dear. Our son will be here any day now."

"Send for me if you need me."

He nodded distractedly, and she left. Richelieu's death would be disastrous. She hated and feared him, but nothing could detract from his skills as First Minister. She reached her rooms and sent her maid for Captain Treville.

TMTMTM

Later the same day Treville returned to the garrison in somber mood. He handed his horse over to the stable boy and walked across the yard. He sent the first Musketeer he encountered to fetch Athos, Aramis, Porthos and d'Artagnan.

"At ease," he instructed after they had gathered in his room.

They all looked at him enquiringly.

"I have just come from the palace. The Cardinal is dying."

"Are you sure?" Athos asked.

"Yes. He had a seizure which has paralyzed his right side. It is only a matter of time before he has another more severe one."

"The King must be distraught," Aramis said.

"His Majesty is not taking it well. It couldn't have happened at a worse time. King Philip has moved troops closer to the border. It is clear provocation."

"Who will take his place as First Minister?" d'Artagnan asked.

"Good question. There are several candidates but none as accomplished as Richelieu."

"I never thought I'd be sorry to hear this news," Porthos said.

"I'm sure he will be hailed as a hero who wore himself out in the service of France," Athos said cynically.

"His death could destabilize the country. Already rumours are starting in the town. I'll be sending out patrols to keep the peace," Treville said. "And I have a task for you. Word has reached us of a man with intelligence about the Spanish movements. He will be at the village of Senlis in four days from now. I want you to meet him and escort him here."

"Who is this man?" Aramis asked.

"I don't have a name."

"How do we know this is legitimate?" Athos asked.

"We don't so be careful. In the meantime you have your duties to attend to. Dismissed."

TMTMTM

Richelieu lay in bed, his mind clear and his body unresponsive. He knew he was dying and raged against it. He had too much to accomplish yet. His entire adult life had been dedicated to the welfare of France. He had guided the young King, foiled the Queen Mother's attempt to usurp the throne, and had plotted and schemed to make France one of the strongest countries in Europe. To die at such a critical time left a bitter taste in his mouth.

Then there was the Queen and her bastard. It was too late now to tell the King. The seizure had affected his speech, leaving it slow and slurred. He would never be able to persuade the King that the Queen had committed treason with a common soldier. He could, however, send a message to Aramis. Laboriously, he asked his attendants to send for his confessor.

When the man arrived Richelieu struggled to impart his message. Aramis was to be taken to the church of Saint-Eustache and shown Adele's burial place. Then he was to be told that all his secrets were known to the Cardinal. Father Bertrand, his confessor, was openly curious about the meaning behind the message but Richelieu was not willing to elaborate. Let the truth come out in its own time. Then, exhausted, he fell asleep.

Two hours later the bells of all the churches in Paris tolled for the passing of France's First Minister. He died at a dark time in France's history, taking the Queen's secret to the grave.

The End


End file.
